


🍒Sour Cherries🍒

by BadTasteGang



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, Memory Loss, Post-Finale, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadTasteGang/pseuds/BadTasteGang
Summary: It's hard enough readjusting to life when you don't have the slightest clue who you are or what your place is in the world. It's even harder when you realise your relationship with your ex business partner wasn't strictly professional, and now you're seeing the consequences.





	🍒Sour Cherries🍒

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting so I can separate all my baby fics - sorry!

_I missed summers like this._ How many years was she in space? How many times did she think she'd die and never get to see the earth again? Hell, she  _did_ die. Twice. And she  _still_ made it back; all of the hurt, all of the trauma and fear and anger, all of it to make it home and sit outside in the summer sun.  _It almost feels worth it._

The gang's all here. With all that's going on in their lives it's hard to meet up regularly, but Renée insisted they work out plans and spend the afternoon together, all 6 of them - plus Hera on a long distance Skype call. What was it Daniel had called them? A shitty survivors club? He was joking at the time, but the name - minus the expletive - stuck. He might be a bundle of sarcasm and snide comments, but anyone can see he's warming up to the group. Only a little, and there's still a stream of banter and a self righteous attitude that's covering up his deeper issues, but he's still getting softer. Right now he's sat on a metal chair, enjoying the warmth in the café garden and sipping a beer. Rex lies by his feet, nuzzling his master's ankle and lazily wagging his tail. Isabel didn't know what she expected him to do when he got back to earth - what did any of them expect to do, really? - but she'd still been surprised when a month after they touched down on the planet he'd brought home the oldest, scruffiest, sweetest dog he could find at the nearest shelter. Rex was immediately glued to his side. Even though he was nearly 11 by the time Daniel adopted him he acted like the man had raised him since he was a puppy, trailing around after him and lying on his lap at every opportunity. She watches Daniel reach down with a smile to pet him and Rex presses his head into his hand, tail speeding up and smacking against the ground like a jackhammer.

Doug is sat on the other side of the table, one of his long legs bouncing eagerly as he describes the movie he watched last night to Hera.

“God, Hera, it was so tense! I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!”

“Well what happened next?” comes her tinny voice from the laptop speaker.

“The raptor saw Lex climb into the cabinet and she can't get the door to come down, it runs towards her and it bites at her but - get this! - it was her reflection in the metal and, BANG, it attacked the door instead! So she gets out and runs while it's dazed, but Tim is still in there and…” His voice carries on in the background but Isabel tunes him out as her gaze wanders. The next table over is occupied by Dominic and Renée, and she'll be damned if they don't make the picture perfect couple. Years apart, a lifetime with what they went through on the Hephaestus, one believing their spouse was dead, but already they're happily back together and running like clockwork. Renée leans back in her chair with sunglasses protecting her eyes as she dozes in the afternoon light. One hand rests in her lap while the other is on the table, fingers intertwined with her husband's. His free hand slowly taps away on his tablet but it's clear he's only half focused on the article he's writing. How could he focus when she's here, when she's alive with him and so close? He's watching her with the gooeyist honeymoon smile on his face, not a care in the world.

And finally, sitting across from Isabel is Pryce. Her eyes are focused on the glass in front of her, slowly swirling the ice and lemonade with a stripy paper straw. She's an awkward bump in their shitty survivors club, an unwanted reminder of the past, but what can they do? She's severely amnesic, unable to function on her own without their help, and they can't deny that her and Eiffel are very close. There's some irony in that, that Eiffel encouraged Hera to destroy both of their minds and let himself lose everything to ensure she lost everything too - and now he lives with her, studies with her, makes her join him on his movie marathons, and insists she joins them every time the group meets up because it's not fair to leave her out. And, Isabel supposes, it's not. She's not the person she used to be and she’s in the exact same boat as Doug - it wouldn't be fair to treat her differently, no matter how hard it is to forget what she did to them. She looks at her, absently mixing her drink while her mind is far away. The clink of ice on glass, the occasional whir as her eyes come back into focus, the sound of Doug describing how they brought back power and communications to the Jurassic Park. The noise fades together, fits into place as part of that sweet summer scene. In short, it's the perfect day; surrounded by friends, sweet relaxed moments amongst the chaos they've called their lives for the past few months, lovely and bright and hot. _Maybe too hot._ She watches Pryce bring a napkin to her bright red face for the umpteenth time. Her hair is damp with sweat and she looks tired, more tired than usual.

“...Pryce?” Isabel asks with a sigh.  _Whir._ Mechanical eyes focused on her face.

“Yes, Isabel?”

“Are you too hot?”

“N-no, I'm fine.” She folds the napkin and puts it back down neatly. “I mean, I'm a  _bit_  hot, yes. Aren't you?”

“Yeah, that's why I'm wearing shorts and a tank,” Lovelace frowns. “Not a full skirt and a cardigan in the middle of summer.” Pryce looks down at herself and fiddles with a button.

“I like this outfit…?” She sounds unsure.

“Sure, it's cute.” Her voice is dry. “Why not take the cardigan off at least?” From the corner of her eye she can see Jacobi turning to watch them, apparently sensing an argument and wanting a front row seat.

“No, I'm fine,” Pryce repeats. She swallows nervously and leans forward to sip her drink. Obviously she's not fine or she wouldn't be so keen to avoid losing a layer, and Isabel says as much. “I said I'm fine,” she insists, a snap finding its way into her voice. Her hands clasp protectively over her stomach. “I don't want to take it off. I'm  _fine._ ”

“...Ohh.”

“What?”

“Ohh…” Isabel’s eyes widen and she moves closer, trying to get a better look at her while Pryce attempts to slide down her seat. “No. No way.”

“What?” Daniel pipes up.

“You're…?”

“I… Don't know what you're talking about,” Pryce squeaks. She swallows again and her eyes are darting around, looking for an escape route? A distraction?  _What happened to always being one step ahead?_

“What  _are_ you talking about?” Daniel asks. Doug’s story trails off and he turns his attention to the two women.

“Nothing, Isabel was just saying I should take off my cardie…!”

“And she won't because she's hiding that she's-”

“Hiding my arms because I don't want to get sunbur-”

“Hiding that she's pregnant,” Isabel blurts out far too loudly.  _Please tell me she's actually pregnant, or else I just embarrassed myself._ If they didn't already have the groups’ attention, that outburst did the trick. Every head whips around to stare at Pryce, who's stuttering and clutching her belly.

“T-that's not- I… I'm… That's… No…”  _Subject change?_ “A-anyway, wasn't Doug telling a story… I don't want to, uh, interrupt.”  _Get defensive?_   “And it wouldn't be your business even if I was pregnant.”  _Straight up denial?_   “Which I'm… Not.” Pause.  _A long_ pause. Did any of that work?

“Holy shit.” Daniel finally breaks the silence. Renée nods.

“Agreed.” She’s still sleepy and drunk on sunshine, but this is a wake up call if she's ever heard one. “So, wait, how long have you been…?”

“I'm… I’m not…” Pryce mumbles but the fight has gone out of her.

“Doctor, just be honest,” says Isabel. Pryce lets out a shaky sigh. She can't deny it anymore, can't keep pretending it's not happening.

“I…” It's hard to find the words. She starts unbuttoning her jumper as she talks, there's no point hiding it anymore. “I don't remember it but the father... Must be Marcus. It had to be him before… You know… Everything.” She slides the thick wool off her shoulders and the relief of finally getting out of that ridiculously hot garment is enough that she doesn't pay attention to the others ogling her body. Her small frame just accentuates how big her stomach is getting, filling out the front of the graphic t shirt she pilfered from Doug's laundry.  _What else can I do? My shirts don't fit anymore._

“That was months and months ago, though,” says Dominic. “You've been hiding it all that time?”

“I did my best...”

“Eiffel,” Daniel butts in, “you spend loads of time with her. Didn't you, I don't know, notice how big she was getting?” Doug smiles awkwardly.

“I just thought she was getting fat…?”

“Hey,” Pryce whines.

“Sorry!”

“Well.” Daniel turns back to the table and takes a long drink. “Shit.”

“I… Agreed,” Renée says again. “...Shit.”

“What are you going to do with…” Dominic starts before he's cut off with a shrill yell.

 _“I don't know!”_ Pryce ducks her head and stares at the melting ice in her glass again. “I… I don't know, Dominic. I kept pretending it'd just go away if I don't think about it. I don't know what I'll do when it's born…” A silence settles over them.

“Is it safe to assume you're keeping the kid?” Isabel finally asks. Pryce doesn't look up. If she was able to cry, she would have been on the verge of tears. A ghost of the strong willed, cool and collected woman she was before, the stress and hormones are threatening to break her.

“Yes,” she whispers. “I can't give away his baby.” Her hands rest on the bump, shielding her baby.  _Cutter's_ baby, they realise. His own little prodigy, an heir to an abandoned throne with a dead father and a clueless mother.

Needless to say, this has definitely ruined their nice lunch date.


End file.
